


The Darkness Awakens

by Joanna_Kay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But I'm trying to be better in the New Year!, But nothing very explicit (by my standards), But was originally supposed to be part of something longer, Dean's a bit of a dog in his dreams, F/M, I think? It's been a while since I watched prime-time!, I wrote it ages and ages ago and never posted or completed it, It's been ages since I figured out ratings, Linked Dreams, Nothing that wouldn't show up on primetime, Post-Mark of Cain, Unbeta'd, can be read as a one-shot, not quite soulmates, the connection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanna_Kay/pseuds/Joanna_Kay
Summary: After the Mark of Cain is removed from Dean's arm and The Darkness is unleashed, Amara visits Dean in his dreams via the connection that the Mark created.
Kudos: 1





	The Darkness Awakens

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally planned this as the beginning to a longer story. It still may become that. However, I wrote it ages ago and got distracted by other writings, real life, etc. I'm hoping that posting it and possibly getting feedback helps rekindle my love of writing, even if this remains a one-shot.

It was peaceful in a way his life never had been; the crystal clarity of the lake and the slight mist wreathing trees and mountain tops providing a stillness to a soul used to fighting, to being flung from pillar to post and back again. He had been here before, whenever the rough and tumble life he led got to be too much for him, whenever he needed to reconnect with the very reason why he fought so hard for so much of his life. Here, he could let go of the worry and stress of his everyday life and he could just... be.

Dean Winchester would never admit that out loud, especially in the vicinity of his younger brother. Sam would never let him live such a hippie New Age thing down. Even worse than embarrassing Dean? Sammy might embrace the idea, pepper Dean with questions and filling it holes that let everything good and calming and relaxing just leak out like a sieve.

Dean was a simple man; he found pleasure in basic things like long car rides, hot showers, cold beer and beautiful women. He didn't have to over think every little detail in everything he did. For him, it was enough to be here, breathing in cool mountain air and listening to the wildlife that, for once, was 100% natural and not trying to kill him. He squinted into the distance, watching as the world around him dimmed slightly.

That was new.

He tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck raising, his extremely finely honed survival instinct warning him that something here wasn't right, something didn't belong. He stood, his eyes scanning the horizon as he turned. When he came back to the start, looking out over the water from the end of a dock, he took a step back as he reached out.

Amara stood in front of him scant inches from the edge. It was automatic, the reach to stop her from falling.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, forehead crinkling in a scowl. So much for his relaxation.

“You called me here.”

He snorted in denial. “I don't think so, Amara.”

She shrugged elegantly, the satiny fabric of her dress shifting over her skin. No matter how much he denied it, it was true. Dean Winchester had called her to his dreamscape. It might have been a subconscious call, but it was one nonetheless. “You can believe it or not, Dean. Beliefs don't change facts.”

“And why would I have called you here?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “The only reason I'd want to talk to you is to find out how to send you back where you came from.”

“Oh, Dean.” She shook her head mournfully, dark waves dancing with the movement. “You know that's impossible.” She smirked and licked her lips as she gazed at his. “I have been unleashed into my brother's world and it shall become mine.”

“You know I'll stop you.” Hard fingers dug in to Amara's sides, biting pressure that made the blood sing through her body.

“I know you'll try,” she agreed. “I also know you don't really want to.”

“Don't want to save the world?” He gave a whiskey-roughened chuckle. “Darlin', I've faced worse things than little ole you to do that.”

“There is nothing worse than me,” she reminded him, voice heating as anger rose in her at being dismissed so summarily. “I am the Darkness. Everything that you Humans fear came from me.”

“Maybe. We're pretty messed up ourselves, though.” He shook his head. “I'm pretty sure we would've come up with a lot of that stuff without any help. Look what I did.”

“You were affected by the Mark,” she murmured, tracing over the sleeve of his shirt where the Mark had been branded into his arm.

“Not all of it.” Full lips twisted in a mockery of a smile, one tinged with sadness and even disgust at himself. “Yeah, the Mark affected me, but I was already pretty messed up. This isn't a life for the pretty and well-adjusted.”

“It brought the negative to the foreground.”

“It couldn't bring anything up that wasn't already in me.” He shrugged slightly, his hands gentling on her waist. “I already knew I'm messed up.”

“You're not,” she muttered fiercely, leaning in to the shelter of his body. The clouds around them darkened even as lightning began coming to the foreground. The light breeze picked up, becoming a wind that tore at their clothes.

He twisted, sheltering her from the wind with his body, absently tracing the bare skin of her arms. The move was instinctive, the same thing he would do for any woman.

Right now, in this place, even though she was the Darkness, the greatest foe he has faced to date... she was still a woman.

He reached up and traced the Mark of Cain on her chest with his thumb, gently brushing over the soft flesh. It wasn't raised or irritated, no redness warning of its true nature. It looked innocent there, just a simple scar on a beautiful woman.

Such a simple, innocuous mark. That it could bring out murder and mayhem and the end of the world...

“It links us,” she reminded him. “Something of both of us, transcending time and connecting us.”

“See, that I don't get. I can see it linking us when we both had it, but mine is gone.”

Amara quirked a brow in understanding. “You're thinking of the Mark on each of us as separate entities. It's not. The Mark is mine, a Mark of my power and the nature of my being. My brother has a similar one.”

Dean snorted and shook his head. “That doesn't make me yours.”

“Oh, Dean, you were destined to be mine long before you took my Mark and you continue to be long after it left you.” She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “It's only the Mark of Cain because he's the most famous holder. It could just as easily been the Mark of Winchester.” A sigh. “I always had it. My brother took it from me and gave it to my nephew, thus locking me away. Lucifer gave it to Cain. Cain gave it to you.” She reached up and traced his jawline with soft fingers, her eyes sad. “That's why it corrupted you. None of you are built to withstand what I am.”

Dean shook his head in denial.

“Dean, this Mark isn't only a part of me, it is me. It's a piece of my,” she hesitated and brief moment before shrugging, “soul, for lack of a better word. The closest thing I have to one. When you carried it, you carried a part of me within you, entwining with your very soul. When you and your brother removed the Mark, it didn't just release me from my imprisonment. It came back to me, bringing a piece of you into me.”

“So we're like soulmates or something? Soulmates with God's sister.”

“Not soulmates as Humans know them. We are... connected.”

“Maybe. But it's my job to stop you.”

“Or join me.” Amara stepped even closer, pressing her body against his. “I don't think you could hurt me, Dean. I don't think you really want to.” She looked down briefly, almost bashfully. “I know I don't want to hurt you.”

“What's your plan then?”

She smiled coyly. “Oh, I think I've made that quite clear,” she teased, reveling in the noise that emanated from him before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body even closer to his. One callused hand slipped into her hair, holding her captive as his mouth took hers. 

The kiss went on for ages and yet was over all too quickly, Dean breathing harshly against her lips as they parted just enough to breathe in gulps of air. “This is wrong.”

She smiled, leaning in to breathe deeply at his neck, enjoying the scent of leather and whiskey mixing with the freshness of rain and Dean's own masculine scent. “How could something wrong feel so right?” she murmured, pressing chastely closed lips against his skin.

It was drugging, appealing to his base instincts for sex and comfort. After all it was a dream, nothing more and nothing less. 

Really, what could indulging in his fantasies here hurt?

He kissed her again, relishing the feel of her lips, drinking in the sharpness of her powers through her taste. He pulled her impossibly closer, stooping down and pressing her into the curve of his body even as he lifted her higher into him. One masculine hand gripped her long hair, pulling her head back in a show of submission as he began mouthing his way down her neck.

“We should take this someplace else,” he murmured against warm skin, white teeth nipping a sensitive point that made her gasp before lathing it with his tongue.

A cabin appeared in the distance, a squat shape of rough logs melting from the mist. Even as he noticed it for the first time in peripheral awareness and vision, they were inside. There was a kitchen area with a small table, two doors and a fireplace along the walls. The main room was dominated by a king-size bed, resplendent with a carved wooden headboard and crisp white linens.

Dean didn't hesitate, immediately grabbing her by the shoulders and pressuring her against the nearest wall even as his lips sealed against hers and his tongue licked its way inside her mouth. “Where'd you bring us, darlin'?

“I didn't,” she gasped as he again started mouthing a hot trail down the side of her neck, her head automatically tilting to give him easier access. “You did.”

He stepped back briefly, grinning wickedly as her body automatically arched towards his to keep the contact, and looked over his shoulder to the bed. “I can imagine some good times to be had in that bed over there.” The grin didn't slip from his lips as she growled and pushed off against the wall, Dean allowing her to crowd against his body, steering them both towards the bed in question.

Finally, they hit the edge and fell, Amara landing on top of him with a triumphant grin.

“Oh, Dean, my Righteous Man, I could show you a good time anywhere,” she purred, rubbing her body against his to nip at his collar bone and dexterous fingers began sliding buttons through flannel holes. She made short work of his outer shirt and began to slide it off as much as possible with him on his back. Giving up on the effort quickly, she pulled his black t-shirt up and over his head, allowing it to bunch at his shoulder blades with the other. It was a makeshift containment, not quite allowing him free range of motion. 

It didn't stop him from twisting, using the bulk from his muscled body to twist them around under she lay beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms and his body slotting naturally into hers as she moaned.

Feminine hands continued pushing the fabric down as she stretched her legs, lifting her pelvis to meet the hard bulge contained in the tight denim of his jeans. She grinned wickedly as he groaned and ground down into her heat. She'd let the hunter play his dominance games, the ones so typical to the males of any species.

After all, they both knew who was really the one in charge here.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments (or kudos) are welcome! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
